Deceptions
by Strawhatter
Summary: AU. Noah!Allen He was born as a Noah with Innocence, raised as a Noah, but then took it upon himself to infiltrate the Black Order. Perhaps he would find a reason to save humanity, or perhaps he would side with his family.
1. Prologue

**Deceptions**

Strawhatter

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it.

**Pairing**: No idea

**Warning**: T for violence and general gore. But since there aren't any actual gory imagery here, it's T. But it may move up to M.

**A/N: IMPORTANT!** This is a rewrite, but it has gone under _**MAJOR**_ changes. The main theme remains the same. Allen. Noah. Evil. _HOWEVER_, as I sat down and tried to rework this story, I was flipping through the DGM fandom which is sadly, sort of dying. And I realized that, why are none of the Noah! Allen stories that I've read actually _dark_? I mean yes, there are some where he is evil, but I have yet seen a Noah!Allen actually having some Noah personality traits. IE: Killing people. So yes, this is dark, it'll be rated M because I'm making it gory to satisfy my need for a SRS!DARK!ALLEN.

Don't flame please ;_;. It'll make me sad. But on another note, if you find any grammar mistakes/spelling mistakes, please let me know! I sort of just published this without second thought.

**PROLOGUE.**

He looked gleefully at the Finder who by then had frozen in fear. Leaning in ever so closer, until the man could feel the Noah's breath tingling his ear. He was the last, the last of the group that was sent here to find _Innocence._

"I hear music in _everything_, everything that you don't appreciate, you _humans_." He whispered softly, hand almost caressing the thick yellow jacket that was protecting the man.

"Can't you feel your heart beating?" He was smiling, but it was not a kind smile. It was one that sent shivers up his spine. One that rooted him to the ground. One that made him feel the shadows of dread creeping up against him.

"_Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum_," the golden eyed boy murmured, soon in tune with the Finder's own heart beat, before he grinned sadistically.

"_Ba. Bum._" He finished with a note of finality, removing his hand from the man's chest. The man, who was fine mere seconds ago, clutched at his chest, extremities turning cyanotic, eyes opened wide, mouth gaped open. He thrashed on the ground like a fish out of water, before the presence of death finally overtook him. The Noah watched apathetically as the last breath of life left.

"Sadistic aren't you? Shounen?" A voice said behind him, but he didn't need to turn around-he already knew who it was.

"At least I don't have their hearts eaten inside out."

The man simply chuckled, walking closer to see the little piece of work that laid on the gritty stone floor. There was nothing he could say to counter that accusation. Having their beating hearts eaten slowly as they waste away _was_ quite sadistic.

"Why are you even here, Tyki?" The Noah Family, while having tight familial bonds, normally don't contact each other while embracing their inner twisted insanity.

"The Earl wants us to begin our plans. Apparently we have bigger things to do, other than killing these utterly useless Finders." He added with a note of disgust. At least the ones who were helping down their akuma should be better trained.

The boy hummed, the air glittering and giving away as a vortex slowly appeared, shimmering until a grand white gate opened before them. It spilled forth white light, almost holy despite the dripping blood smeared across the stone in the alleyway.

Without another word, the two figures stepped into the white rays that engulfed them. The enormous luminescent gate closed, leaving only broken bodies behind.

"_Twenty-seven_ dead. _Twenty-seven_." Komui shook his head slowly as he read the report that was sent in by another group of Finders after the first group had disappeared. Which, in the world of the Black Order, was never a good thing. They were found completely torn to pieces, blood splattered everywhere, so it was not from a random akuma attack-but something much more _dangerous_. He reminded himself to file the report somewhere else on the desk for deeper research, and proceeded to skim over the gruesome injuries that were described, wincing slightly at every laceration and puncture wound described. They were all mercilessly killed.

And despite the higher up's persistent disregard for the lives of Finders-solely because they were incompatible with Innocence, Komui felt his heart ache every time he stepped into the actual Church in the Order. Resources that Komui wanted to go towards the defense of the perhaps bravest part of the Order was left to designing new equipment for the Exorcists, more budget for the Investigation department for more information on possible Innocence locations.

He shook his head again. Sometimes, he wondered if the Earl was correct in rebuilding humanity.

* * *

Tell me what you think! Continue it? Abandon it? I'm kind of unsure, since the other Deceptions is _really_ quite light.

**Review! :)**


	2. Chapter 1

**Deceptions**

Strawhatter

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it.

**Pairing**: No idea

**Warning**: M for child abuse/endangerment, insanity, starvation, death. But oh man, I think I wrote this a bit too dark. It was a bit disturbing even for me while writing it.

**A/N: **Holy. %$*#. You guys were absolutely _amazing_ in reviews, I have no words to describe how happy I was that this story has so far received such support so early on. I'll try my best to keep this story on the darker side, as there are many light!noah!allen around.

**IMPORTANT:** This chapter has not been beta'd, I wrote this until well, the morning light basically. So I am absolutely exhausted, will answer reviews tomorrow, and please excuse me for any grammatical errors in this chapter. Thank you and Enjoy!

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE.**

A sickly green glow pulsed gently as obsidian bleached white, silver melted gold, and ivory overtook tan. One last pulse of light, and the transformation completed,a ragged looking teen with an oversized overcoat took the place of Cyril Camelot's elder child. He grimaced slightly. He despised-_loathed_ this form. It was so fragile, so weak, so undeniably _human_ despite the rough, jagged, yet feline elegance that his Innocence infested arm held. It reminded him of the imperfections of humans. It reminded him of cruelty, and the endless cycle of hatred in those _pathetic, pathetic_ humans.

But more importantly, he was reminded of his mother.

_Past_

He was the tender age of seven, when he realized cruelty.

"You are an _abomination!_" His mother, home drunk after work stormed in, raging at the only living, breathing thing in their small house. She was shaking, trembling, and stumbling into the doorway. She yells at him once more, the serenity of the house dissipating to the fierce rush of anger. She grabs his arm-his _abomination_-all red and burnt, the arm of the _devil_, she calls it. She drags him along into the kitchen, leaving him at the doorway in preference for more objects to throw.

But he understands. He understands, because she had lost her job. He understands, because he was not like the other children. He understands, because his mother had given up everything for him.

"I had _everything! Everything!_" She screamed, tears running down her haggard face-the once beautiful dark chocolate brown hair in photographs was now speckled with grey and lined with grease; her eyes once the envy of sapphires were now the eyes of the insane.

"I could have lived a life of _privilege! _I could have became the next _duchess!_ If only I abandoned _you!_" Yelling herself hoarse, she threw another plate on the ground, causing pieces of ceramic splashing across the floor. He was crouched in the corner of their miniscule kitchen, when his mother with another raised plate simply dropped and started sobbing. She curled in on herself, whispering transient apologies that he knew would be meaningless with the first rays of the sun.

He was eight, and no longer naive when he saw death.

Their small remote village had hit a famine, disease rampaged, jobs scarce, and they were _dying_. His mother had never quite regained from her periods of lost sanity, forever dreaming of the fortunes that were within her reach when she threw it all away for a dream of a romantic elope to a remote village with a child her parents and husband wanted to abort. But now she dreams of her silk and lace lined, gold rimmed wedding dress, the carriage and stallions, hands that were once for piano, not harvesting.

Nonetheless, she continued her mindless labor, collecting wool from the surviving sheep, and the days were normal despite the growing pangs of hunger.

Then her fragile link with sanity at last, snapped.

It was their fourteenth day of meager boiled water with dried fish from last season-barely able to feed a growing boy and a working mother. Their rations were down to the list crumb, and the villagers were all dead or dying. He had helped to bury them in a pit across the stream. It was almost time for their meal of the day, and he was sitting, waiting for at least a warm bowl to come his way.

Instead, he was greeted simply by his mother who was smiling coyly.

"I have written a letter to my parents. I paid the letterman the last of our savings, but I just _know_ they will know what to do!" She said almost dreamily. He eyes her warily, and wondered if his mother had finally lost her sense with reality.

She sits down next to him at the table, folding her legs elegantly even after all those years, and folded her hands into her lap, away from sight.

"Allen baby, I never regretted a single moment being with you." He snorted a little inwardly but tensed at his mother's tone. "But I am afraid that this village can no longer support us." She finished, absently stroking his hair but there was no love in her movements. There was nothing. Empty.

He briefly wondered if she was simply going to leave him in this deserted, dying village, and briefly toyed with the idea that it would not be that bad of an idea. The villagers here were the closest members of family he has ever known. They were all misfits, ostracized from society to live in a small corner of the world. And even if he did die, would anyone truly miss him?

"Of course, I can never leave you out here with these-these _freaks_," she growled slightly, "they are _nothing_ compared to us, _nothing_." Her eyes glaze over, gazing aimlessly at a fogged window as her fingers in his hair grew rougher. Her movements all but stopped, but all of a sudden, her eyes brighten, her head turns, and she stands up and forced him on the ground. Her fingers were around his neck, and she was throwing her tiny, tiny weight on her son.

"I'm _so sorry_," she whispered, as her thin hand pulled out a knife from her pocket. Drops of salt laced water fell on him, as she trembled but her voice somehow remained firm. "But I think a mother's sacrifice can only go so far."

Allen Walker was eight, when he first heard the symphony of the world.

_Present_

He walked towards his destination easily, despite Rhode's insistence that he take one of her doors. But he enjoyed the quiet chirps of the birds, the soft whistling of the leaves, and the mellifluous melody of the nearby streams, despite not being able to access any of his darker powers in this form. His mind calmed, and he felt the boiling animosity shimmer down.

Following the main trail, he smiled slightly as the sign of the town greeted him. Walking in, he carefully avoided any akuma in order to avoid recognition from a particularly loud-mouthed one that could blow his cover. The town was bustling, with merchants and civilians walking every which way across the unpaved roads. His ears ringed with the cacophony of voices, and he cringed at the uncouth noises that came from every which direction.

Silver eyes roamed around the busy street, until he landed on a small girl wearing a short dark dress with striped stockings. Walking over, the girl too, turned around.

"Allen-kun! You took so long!" His sister pouted, lollipop forever in one hand. "Even _Tyki_ got here before you did!" She pointed in a tavern, where Allen could barely see Tyki and his white vagabond friends playing poker in a rather smoke and clamor filled room.

"Where's the general? I'd like to get this done and over with…" he murmured. A migraine was starting to form, and he was unsure how long he could stay within this city before his urge to simply _kill off_ this entire town overrides reason.

Rhode smirked a grin that even made his skin slightly crawl. "Oh he's here. Not for long though."

* * *

**A/N: **I wish I could've continued this chapter, but I really need to sleep B(. I hope you enjoyed that quite-long flashback. I have to say, I gave myself the creeps. But then again, I get the creeps over everything. Bugs, for instance.

I hope I did not let you guys down!

Tell me what you think!

**Review! :)**


End file.
